


but if i were you, i would never let you go.

by washingmachineheart



Category: BoBoiBoy (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mutual Pining, Relationship at Various Stages, Timeskip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-06
Updated: 2020-09-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 03:01:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26319856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/washingmachineheart/pseuds/washingmachineheart
Summary: Boboiboy learns, and unlearns - that he is capable of wanting, as well as hoping.
Relationships: BoBoiBoy/Fang (BoBoiBoy), BoiFang - Relationship
Comments: 2
Kudos: 23





	but if i were you, i would never let you go.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [solvunaruitsu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/solvunaruitsu/gifts).



> some translations before you read. 
> 
> pelamin: akin to an altar, a traditional malay wedding couch where the newlyweds sit and take their vows. 
> 
> abah: father, an arabic root word (abb-un).

It’s in the little moments that often make you realise. These are the moments that are usually extremely fleeting. Where you have to catch that thought in your palm, prisoning it in the folds of your fingers before they disappear into the wind, to never be thought of again. 

For Boboiboy, it came to him in a dream. Where for the first time in a while the images that were conjured up in his head weren’t so scary. 

As a matter of fact, they were pleasant. _Extremely_ pleasant, as a matter of fact. The moment he opened his eyes, and the dream began to dissipate. His neurons clinging onto the bits and pieces left and putting it into coherent thoughts.

It’s him, in a park where there is nothing but sunshine. Holding the hand of a faceless child in his right, and though he can’t put their face back into an image he can remember he dreamt of them smiling and happy. 

And someone else’s in his left, whose face was a little too clear for him to say he can’t forget. 

It’s five in the morning, and his eyes adjust to the metal rungs that cradled a sleeping Gopal. He remembers he’s in space, and he feels his lips curl up into a small smile. 

_I want to be a dad._

_______________

Fang only met Pipi once. 

It was when they had gone back down to Earth pre Retak’ka incident. And even then he had held himself back, letting the reunions unfold and watching the displays of love at a distance. 

So when he meets her again, when they get another vacation back down on Earth; Boboiboy doesn’t expect that he would say “yes” to accompanying him to babysit. 

“I really don’t mind,” he shrugged. They’re both standing in front of the Papa Zola residence, having already rung the bell and waiting for an answer. “Besides, you’re basically my host on earth. It’s the least I can do to help you out.” 

“Well, it was just on such a late notice. That’s the only reason I’m surprised, really.” 

Fang had simply smiled, a soft one. The one that made his insides go a little mushy, though he could never say that out loud. 

“I just like spending time with you, that’s all,” Fang said, and as soon as the door opened Boboiboy felt his face catch fire. 

“Abang Boboiboy!” Pipi had squealed, releasing her tiny hand from her father’s and leaping toward him for a hug. 

“Hello, Pipi!” Despite being caught off-guard he managed to grab hold of her safely, and twirled her around as if she were a rag-doll. She laughed along as her body was lifted into the air, enjoying her light-weight being treated like a dandelion.

Papa on the other hand, displayed a different reaction. “Disciple! Please ensure my beloved daughter doesn’t get thrown off into the distance!” He exclaimed, prompting the teenager to put her down. 

“Papa!” Pipi whined. “Abang Boboiboy would never hurt me!” She quickly let go of Boboiboy as soon as she was on the floor, as if to make a point. 

“Still, you must play with each other _safely_ ,” Papa advised, shooting the two boys with a worried look. Mama Zila had emerged from the house, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. 

“They’ll be fine,” she said, though the dirty look on her face directed toward Boboiboy and Fang said otherwise. 

Papa sighed. “Okay. I guess we should get going now.” 

“Have fun on your date, Mr Papa,” Fang bid them goodbye, as they got onto the family motorcycle. “I’ll be sure nothing gets broken.” 

“Hey!” Boboiboy scoffed, to which Fang only shot him and Pipi a mischievous smirk.

The engine of the motorcycle started, leaving everyone behind. 

______________

“Abang Fang, how does your hair stick up like that?” 

“I keep telling you, you don’t have to call me abang. Just Fang is enough, Pipi.” 

Boboiboy was in the kitchen when he had overheard their little conversation. Despite being a little awkward at first Fang had warmed up to Pipi considerably, who had strung both of them along in different games and playing with all her toys. 

It was nearly five post meridiem. Pipi’s parents had advised her dinner be served to her by then, so she wouldn’t be hungry before her bed time at eight. 

Pipi enjoyed playing at every crevice of the terrace house she lived in. So it was really no surprise that she had chosen a random area of flooring, which just so happened to be close enough to the kitchen for him to be able to hear. 

“OK… Fang. I think your hair could be fixed.” 

“What do you mean? I quite like my hair.” 

A giggle from the little girl. “I think your hair would look prettier if you tie it up like mine.” 

“But my hair’s quite short. I don’t need to tie it up.” 

“Mama never lets me tie her hair. She says I pull too hard when I tie her hair. But I want to try.” 

There was a moment of silence from the boy. A clang of a metal dish hit the countertop, filling that in. 

“Okay. You can do my hair up. But on one condition.” 

“Yay!” She exclaimed, but went silent after remembering there was a rule. 

“You clean up _all_ your toys, and finish the dinner Boboiboy’s heating up for you. Capisce?” 

“Okay!” Pipi happily obliged. 

And when Boboiboy came out of the kitchen, he was greeted by two things. A rather satisfied Pipi with her hands behind her back, and a rather loopy-grinned Fang with three little pigtails sticking up from the mop of his purple hair. His crimson eyes were shining. 

_____________

  
  


Boboiboy had kept the postcard in his pocket ever since he had received it. 

And every chance he could he would open it up on the days that he missed _him_. Though with each day he spent in space and conversely each day it stayed in his jacket pocket. Every day the creases would ink itself into the image on its front, blending together to become one. The message left on the back getting more meaningless the more and more he read it. 

So it comes to everyone’s surprise when they finish another briefing with Koko Ci and Tarung, when Boboiboy reaches for the postcard and crumples it with his palm.

“Dey, Boboiboy…” Gopal had been the first to react, and to express his shock. “Isn’t that the postcard your dad gave you?” 

“Yeah, and?” 

The brown boy’s usually smiley lips turned into a line, uncertain where to tread next. Boboiboy takes this response to throw it in the wastepaper basket. 

“Is something wrong, Boboiboy?” Yaya asked, hesitantly. 

“No. Nothing’s wrong.” 

Ying however, took a different approach. “Why would you throw it away?” They exclaimed, digging it out of the basket. “This meant so much to you, here.” They handed it back to him, but he kept his palms in a fist. 

“I don’t want it.” 

The three of his friends simply stood in front of him in silence, not knowing what to say. For they had been there when the postcard came for him in real time, seeing how his twelve-year-old self cheered up so considerably after being let down at the Earth Day funfair. 

That was when Boboiboy felt a gloved hand on his shoulder. 

And then he found himself on the floor, with tears streaming down his face uncontrollably. 

Everything had happened a little too quickly, and the rest of them were still planted in front of him in silence - only this time their expressions in more shock. He was truly weeping now, making inaudible sounds and his chest shaking vigorously. All the emotions stemming from a crushed postcard being tipped out of him like a jug. 

Boboiboy felt Fang’s hand shift from his arm, securing his shoulder into a safe grasp. 

“Are you okay?” He asked, in a voice so _genuine_ that it just made him sob all the harder. 

“It’s been _years_ ,” Boboiboy croaked. He still couldn’t move, but Fang edged closer, holding him properly now. “Why hasn’t he called? Or said anything?” He found himself nuzzling into his chest, the tears dissolving into his shirt. 

Fang patted his back softly, as if he were a small child being put to sleep. “I know,” he murmured. “I miss my dad too.” 

The mention of Fang’s dad, which he had never really brought up until now, made him sob all the harder. “I’m sorry,” he wept, wishing all of this wasn’t so unfair. 

“It’s okay,” he whispered, though there was a slight crack in his voice as he said it. “Just cry if you want, Boboiboy. We’re all here.” 

But sometimes that didn’t feel enough. It wasn’t enough that he had a dad somewhere that had watched him nearly die multiple times. It wasn’t enough that he still loved him, even though there were times he tried to remember him and he just _couldn’t._ Boboiboy couldn’t even reach him through his memories anymore, which felt like the worst part. 

That was when he felt himself engulfed, Gopal’s warm hands surrounding him. 

“Group hug,” Gopal offered, even though he was already doing it. “We love you, Boboiboy.” 

And even though his vision was bleary he knew Yaya and Ying had joined in too, the five of them a rather big mess of a group hug. 

He was still hurting, and would be for a long time. But for now, this was enough. 

__________

“What do you want to be when you grow up?” 

The question comes quite randomly, in the midst of laughter and merriment. Sai had been deployed for an overnight mission, leaving Fang’s room open for one more resident. Though Boboiboy had made no plans to sleep over he found himself lying in Fang’s bed with him, the two of them simply talking and laughing through the stagnant night. 

“Mmm…” Fang had replied, letting himself drift off for a second to think. 

“I don’t know, actually,” Fang said, after some deliberation. “I’ll probably still be here, become captain.”

“Like your brother?” 

“Like my brother,” Fang echoed, though he sounded uncertain. 

The conversation dissolved slightly at the mention of the captain, giving Boboiboy a moment to admire Fang’s face up close in silence. He would always be in awe of how perfect his features seemed to be. His eyes, so much more clearer without the filter of his glasses covering them. His cheeks so light and soft, always carrying a natural radiance. 

He can admit it. He really wants to kiss him. 

“What about you?” Fang asked, turning his vision from the ceiling to flipping his head to the side, his left ear snug on his pillow. The sudden attention makes Boboiboy’s face grow hot. 

“Well…” Should he tell him? Was it going to come across as cheesy? Or weird? Because he had never expressed this to anyone… yet. 

And all the same, Fang seemed like the first person he _wanted_ to tell. 

_I suppose that time is now._ “I want to be a dad.” 

Fang’s crimson eyes widen slightly, but he’s not entirely shocked. He chuckled softly, catching him off-guard. 

“Sounds a lot like you, Boboiboy.” 

“You think so?” 

“Yeah. Honestly, you’re the most likely person out of our friend group to be a dad. I’d be disappointed if you said you didn’t want to be one.”

Wow. He certainly hadn’t expected that. “Really?” 

That was when Fang swiped his nose playfully. “Why are you acting so shocked?” 

“I don’t know…” Boboiboy sighed, closing his eyes. The entire unpacking process of the _why_ was a rather tiring shindig. “I guess I just.. Wanna do it right. When the time rolls around.” 

They had already been close, given the bed was a single bed. But somehow Fang edged closer. “You know… you’re not going to be like him. Your dad, I mean.” 

“I have to admit there’s a lot of what-ifs living in me, Fang.” 

“I know. I can understand that.” Distance doesn’t live in their dictionary anymore. Boboiboy can feel his pinky wrap around Fang’s, almost instinctively. 

“But for what it’s worth, I think you’d be a great dad.”

Boboiboy wants to say thank you. He wants to express his gratefulness in words, for Fang just _believing_ in him seemed to bring out unadulterated joy he can’t explain. 

But he doesn’t have to. Before he knows it their faces are inches apart, and then he’s kissing him. Like _really_ kissing him, this moment not the stuff of daydreams anymore. Feeling his soft, pink lips meet his own. Gently grazing them, so careful and shy, and so full of everything and anything all the same. 

And he knows that this is it. He can feel it as they break apart for air, and they both smile as they meet each other’s eyes again. 

This is what it’s like to be loved. 

___________

  
  


“Hey, kid.” 

It’s the day of the wedding, and if he’s being honest Boboiboy is hoping nothing will go wrong today. 

And so far it hasn’t. For the most part it’s been phenomenal, the months of planning and stress leading up to one of the better days he’s ever had. Sitting on the _pelamin*_ with his beloved, holding his hand as they said their vows to take care of each other for the rest of their lives. 

So when Amato approaches him, as he’s in the midst of lively conversation with the colleagues they’ve invited, he can feel his heart sink just a little. 

Fang reads him too well. He places a hand on his shoulder for reassurance, as Boboiboy turns around to face him. 

“Dad.” 

Amato coughs, one fist brought to his mouth. A cup of fruit punch in the other. Their colleagues start to dissipate as if on cue, roaming around the hall to meet other people and get more food. 

“Can we talk?” 

Boboiboy feels himself getting shifty, the traditional groom’s clothes suddenly getting hot and itchy. But he resists it. _Don’t let anything ruin your day._

“Sure. What is it?” 

Amato takes a sip from the cup. “I was hoping we could talk… in private?” 

Boboiboy can’t help but take a glance at Fang, who simply nods as if to say _go ahead if you want. I’ll keep them busy._

But he doesn’t want to talk in private. Not really. He’s an adult now, isn’t he? He could make choices. And assert them. “Whatever you have to say, you can say to both of us, Dad.” 

Amato opens his mouth, but closes it again like he was stopping himself from saying something he would regret. “Well… alright.” 

Boboiboy grasps Fang’s hand, tightly. Conversely he can feel his fingers wrap around his palm safe and secure. 

“I just wanted to tell you I’m sorry, Boboiboy.” 

“Why?” He asks, though he feels like he knows just why. 

This time Amato’s the one getting shifty, like this moment of vulnerability is making him uncomfortable. Like he’s not used to this. 

“For… everything, son. I should have been there for you. But I wasn’t, because I was too caught up in my own world.” He downs his fruit punch, leaving a trail of it on his chin that he wipes away with his sleeve. 

And if he’s being honest, Boboiboy wasn’t expecting all of that to come out of his mouth. He feels like he can’t recognise the person in front of him, who was his father by blood. His hair now a full head of white, the masculine features that he once memorised in his photos thinning out with wrinkles in his head, older veins protruding in his hands. 

He was looking at someone completely different. Meeting someone new. 

Was that such a bad thing? 

“I thought at some point I could, you know. Come back. Start over with you before too much time passed, so that we could be a family again. But I didn’t. And I’m so, so sorry for that.” 

Boboiboy shook his head, and found himself smiling a little. “It’s okay, Dad. You’re here right now, aren’t you?” He can feel Fang’s thumb brush against his palm, in soft strokes. 

Amato chuckles. “I guess so.” 

And Boboiboy finds himself chuckling too. Because frankly he doesn’t know what exactly he has to feel about this right now. Perhaps that was alright too. 

“But I did want to ask, if you’ll give me another chance.” 

_Hmm?_ The pair of them do a double take at this proposition, only looking at him to continue. 

Amato chuckles again, though it’s an awkward one. “I mean if… you’re okay with me being involved in your life, right now. You…” He gestures to Fang, like he can’t process that the man was his spouse now. “Your partner, and your kids. If you’re having them. Though if you aren’t that’s-” 

“I think our kids would love it if their grandfather came around to spoil them.” Fang interrupts him, a sunny smile on his own face at the phrase _our kids._

And Boboiboy has to admit that even though they’ve had extensive discussions about whether or not they wanted them before sealing the deal - hearing him say it makes his heart soar. 

Amato heaves a huge sigh of relief. Like he had been expecting rejection, and prepared himself for that. 

“That’s great!” He almost exclaims, the happiness of being able to re-enter his son’s life showing. 

And it was, as Fang kissed him lightly on the cheek and let go of his husband to be able to greet new guests streaming in, leaving Boboiboy and his father alone together. 

That’s when Boboiboy finds himself engulfed in a hug, Amato wrapping his arms around him carefully. 

“Thank you, for giving me another chance.” He whispers, and Boboiboy is certain he means it now. “I love you, kid.” 

Boboiboy lets himself embrace him. Time was such a weird concept, and so much of it had passed for them to be able to get where they were. 

And slowly, he would learn to be okay with that. 

___________

“What’s the magic word, Mirza?” 

Boboiboy is in the kitchen, the sound of running water interrupting his ability to be able to listen in on the conversation Pipi and his son were having. 

His six-year-old, only grumbled. “I don’t know your magic tricks!” 

“Come on, Mirza! Your daddy taught you good manners. You can do it. What’s the magic word?”

He places the plates back up onto the shelf, the clanging of each hitting the metal creating a momentary rhythm. Boboiboy can’t help but smile to himself, walking out of the kitchen with a paper towel gently drying his wet hands.

Mirza grumbled again. The coffee colored hair needed a trim, covering his rosey eyes. But the sight of his father made him stand to attention, as Boboiboy raised an eyebrow. 

“Please?” He finally murmured, and Pipi whooped in triumph. 

She revealed the television remote from her pocket, and Mirza took in the trick in awe. His little hands reached out for the device, but she pressed the on button and kept it safe with her.

“Go ahead,” she motioned, gesturing to the TV. “Pick a movie, then we’ll all watch together.” 

This seemed to be enough, for the boy charged straight to the screen to review his choices. 

“Hey, why does Mirza get to pick?” Farah, his seven-year-old - and their oldest - grumbled. She was already on the sofa, waiting for everything to begin. “He always picks a Disney movie.” 

“We got to watch _Coraline_ last week, sweetheart,” Boboiboy reminded, and she simply grumbled again, throwing her hands into a fold against her chest. Being reminded she had the choice last week was not her plan. He laughed, ruffling her purple bob. 

“You sure you’ll be okay on your own?” Boboiboy diverted his attention to Pipi. “I could really call my dad to accompany all of you if they get a little out of hand.”

Pipi scoffed. “I’ll be okay, Abang! Besides, ‘a little out of hand’ is nothing a magician like me can’t handle. Well. Magician-in-training.” 

He smiled at her, almost in awe. Now fourteen, with an affinity for the bits and bobs of magic tricks and illusions. She had grown up so considerably, no longer the small little kid he once babysat. Though her large, childlike eyes remained, forever sparkling with curiosity. 

“Thank you, Pipi. It means a lot that you’re helping us out today.” 

She beamed. “No problemo. I should be thanking _you_. You raised a couple of good kids here, I’m sure they’d be fine even if I left them on their own!” 

It was a simple sentiment, but it touched him so much that he pulled her in for a quick hug. 

When they let go she had a confused expression on her face, but the radiance remained.

As if on cue the doorbell finally rang, with an added jaunty _rat-ta-ta-tat-_ tat rapping on the wood. Boboiboy quickly went over to unlock it, but the door opened by itself: revealing his husband, in his purple glasses and disheveled hair glory. 

“Hello!” Fang began, only to be interrupted by the sounds of his children greeting him with immense enthusiasm. 

“Dad!” Farah squealed, her light-weight leaping into his arms. Mirza tried to follow suit, but seemed to have given up on the idea at the sight of his sister dangling on his torso, and tugged his sleeve instead. 

“Alright, settle down Farah,” he chuckled, setting her down and getting to knee level, brushing the hair from her eyes. He shot Boboiboy a soft smile, who even at this stage of their relationship - felt his insides warm up, inhaling his sincerity. 

“Will you watch the movie with us, Dad?” Mirza asked, making futile attempts to tug Fang into the living room. 

He shook his head, and stood back up. “Sorry, Mir. Tonight _abah_ and I are going out, remember?”

Mirza sighed, not bothering to hide his disappointment. “Okay.” 

“Tomorrow we can watch something together, okay?” He patted the little one’s head, who seemed to have forgotten all about his disappointment as his eyes found the television again, going back to the sofa. 

Boboiboy edged closer to his husband, arriving at the door himself. “Hey.” 

“Hey yourself,” Fang greeted, planting a quick kiss on his lips - that was quickly countered by a deeper one from Boboiboy, a small “mmmnh” released from Fang’s mouth in surprise. 

Pipi and Farah let out loud gagging noises. “Get outta here already!” Pipi exclaimed, and the two shared a laugh together.

“Come on,” Fang laughed, reaching for his palm. “Let’s go before they start booing us.” 

As they walked out of their apartment door and back into the outside world, Boboiboy couldn’t resist turning back and opening the door back up again one last time. 

“Bye, kids. I love you!” He said, hoping that was loud enough for them to hear. 

“Love you too,” the three of them trilled, eyes already fixated on the screen as the opening credits of _Anastasia_ (which Boboiboy noted was not a Disney movie) began to roll out before them. 

Faang chuckled, as they walked down their floor aisle to head towards the lift. “They’ll be fine. Pipi’s really got them under control.”

He sighed. “I know. I just… needed to tell them that, that’s all.” 

That was when his husband swept his palm up and kissed it gingerly. “And they know that well. Because you _are a good dad,_ Boboiboy. The best one they could ever have.” 

“I hope so,” he said, and Fang smiled. 

“No, I know so,” he said, as his grip tightened and their pace began to pick up. Their steps in sync, hearts pumping deliriously. Both filled with unadulterated excitement to be able to spend time with each other like this. Because the world was now theirs, and Boboiboy knew that the right thing to do now was to _live_ in it. 

And he knows he doesn’t have to learn, in order to be content with that. 

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> for context on the timeskip: bbb is a stay-at-home dad. fang is a music teacher by day. They live in a little flat, and they’re on their way to the cafe [ mentioned in this fic ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24976723/chapters/60466261) for their date. 
> 
> though it’s not explicit here farah and mirza call bbb ‘abah’. 
> 
> finally, happy birthday, lorie. i too, love you to bits. really hope you like this one <3


End file.
